


Satisfy

by Tory_The_Kitteh



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - No Prophecy (Final Fantasy XV), Arranged Marriage, Awkward First Times, BDSM, Bondage, Collars, F/M, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Luna tops Noct, Some pining, Sub!Noctis, dom!luna, its going to take a bit before we reach the actual sexy bdsm bits, not for lunoct though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26578417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tory_The_Kitteh/pseuds/Tory_The_Kitteh
Summary: Wherein everyone identifies as either Dom, Sub, or somewhere in between, and BDSM is a normal part of everyday society.Luna is a Dom forced to deny her needs and maintain an image of purity and grace by the Empire. Noctis is a Sub in need of a good Dom but his position and shy, introverted nature makes it difficult to find a suitable partner. An opportunity to finally satisfy their needs appears in the form of a Peace Treaty arranging their marriage.Written for Lunoctweek!
Relationships: Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16
Collections: Lunoct Week 2020





	1. Collars

**Author's Note:**

> I had a million ideas for Lunoctweek. Got none of them written!! But I had this in my head and started working on it sooo, here we are. Still tried to use the prompts though. 
> 
> Prompt for this chapter is "Ring".

In Tenebrae it is tradition for the submissives born in the royal family to undergo the Collaring Ceremony once they turn sixteen years of age. It is a terribly formal affair and rather symbolic. Lunafreya is twelve when she bears witness to her brother kneeling before the throne as Queen Sylva Via Fleuret fastens a beautiful silver collar around his throat.

And it truly a beautiful thing: a ring of Tenebraen silver, decorated with small, deep sapphire blue jewels with sylleblossoms etched into the metal, the crest of the royal family sitting snug at the centre. It is almost as lovely as their late father’s collar; a treasure mother has only shown to her twice.

The Priest produces two small, shiny silver keys. One is handed to her brother, and the other will remain with mother. With this, her brother now belongs to himself, until such a time as he finds a dominant worthy to receive his key. One cannot simply take his key though, as any potential suitor must also earn their mother’s approval. Only when they possess both keys will Ravus belong to them completely.

Traditionally, the submissive will never remove their collar, despite possessing the means to do so. According to said tradition, the collar should only come off at the altar where their dominant will replace it with their own.

It is a symbolic and beautiful tradition in the mind of a twelve year old girl. Luna can’t help but find the idea exceedingly romantic. She cannot help but wonder what will happen when it is her turn. Will she one day find herself in this room kneeling in Ravus’s place, or be the one sliding a collar around her submissive’s neck? She must admit she finds the latter is highly appealing.

Luna is yet too young to know for sure what she shall be, but her recent blood tests and psychological examinations have shown her to be leaning towards the more dominant end of the spectrum. There is no guarantee she is a dominant though, as Ravus had surprised them all by presenting as submissive.

Still, Luna often finds herself daydreaming of her potential future wedding; her standing tall, sliding a jewelled collar around the neck of an imaginary submissive, the way he would look up at her through his eyelashes, a small shy smile on his face. Her submissive’s features constantly change, but the way he looks at her never does.

On the day they met, Prince Noctis had looked up at her, smiling shyly and eyes sparkling, even with the shadow of pain lingering at the edges of his expression. And, oh, how sweet he had looked in that instance that she felt her heart might melt then and there. The memory of that face had burned into her mind and taken residence in her daydreams.

If she were to prove to be a dominant, then she hoped to have a submissive even half as sweet as Noctis had looked that day.

…………….

When Luna regals the tale of her brother’s collaring to Noctis, he tells her that in Lucis the submissives of the royal family collar themselves. A tradition started, it seems, by The Tall.

Prince Noctis’s gesticulated wildly, eyes shining brightly, as he told his tale. It was the most animated Luna had seen him in the three days since he’d arrived.

The Tall was a mighty and fierce Warrior Princess, but as tradition dictated she was to be collared by a dom chosen by the King. The Tall did not like the man her father had chosen for her though. Come the day of the ceremony, she instead placed a thin golden choker around her own neck and declared she would only submit to the one who could defeat her and thus claim her “collar”.

She would not submit to one weaker than herself, so she had said. And she would submit to no one else.

Many doms tried and failed to claim her. Men came from far and wide for a chance to claim the future Lucian Queen, but none could match the sheer might of the warrior princess.

Until one day, a woman draped in red appeared before the King’s court. She boasted that she would succeed where others had failed. She bade the King give her only a single night and that by dawn tomorrow she would have the tall and proud princess’s collar.

The King looked upon the woman’s form and laughed; she was a scrawny, meek little thing and he saw no way that this feeble peasant woman could possibly hope to conquer his daughter. He was so amused that he allowed the woman a chance to face the princess, thinking nothing would come of it.

Come dawn the next day, the woman in red once again appeared before the King’s court; in one hand she held the prized gold choker and in the other, a red leash clipped to the matching collar around the princess’s neck.

(“How ever did she do it?” Luna asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Noctis deflated a little, “I dunno. No one will tell me. Guess it must have been a really gruesome battle or something.”

“Hmm, maybe...” Luna said. She had to wonder what had happened for the adults to leave out what she thought to be an important part of the story.)

True to her word, the Tall only ever submitted to her Lady in Red, who remained at the Queen’s side for the rest of her life. They were even said to have been buried together.

Since then, it seems that young submissives have taken to wearing decorative pieces as opposed to actual collars. Although collars were still very much in use, over time views held by society have shifted and changed. Lucis in particular has embraced a more symbolic form of collaring.

Noctis’s mother had not worn a collar, but a stunning jewelled necklace. The Amicitia family, proud Shields of the King, have a long standing tradition of bearing a tattoo.

Lucis has their own version of a Collaring Ceremony, which instead refers to the formal rite the royal retainers go through when swearing their lives and loyalty to the King or Queen. One day, Noctis tells her, he will collar his own Shield and retainers, regardless of whether or not they are actually subs.

After all, it is a terribly formal and highly symbolic affair.

Though their own traditions might seem a little old fashioned, Luna is rather fond of them. She does so adore how Ravus’s lovely collar looks around his neck. Still, she can admit that Lucis’s traditions have their own romance to them.

……………..

They often spent time in the gardens, lying among the sylleblossoms, talking about everything and nothing, sharing traditions and stories from their homelands. Wondering what they will be once they’re grown: dom, sub, neither, perhaps both? They played games, tried to teach Umbra and Pryna tricks as though they were real dogs, snuck treats from the kitchens…

It was some of the most fun Luna had had in her whole life.

She had never had such a close friend like Noctis before.

In the years to come she would hold these memories close to her heart. Like a beautiful treasure to keep and recall fondly during the dark times ahead.

It is small comfort to know that at least King Regis and Noctis were able to escape the coming storm. Luna did not think she could bear it if she had lost him too.

…………………

Things were different in the Niflheim Empire.

One of mankind’s deepest desires is to rule above others. One simply cannot be happy unless they have people below them.

It was natural for Man to want to dominate others. The desire to dominate is ingrained in our very DNA. Yet, the right to dominate, well, that was a _privilege_ belonging to the wealthy and the powerful. And those that possessed wealth and power had no desire to share their happiness with the masses.

For society to function properly there must always be someone at the bottom. The people were to fall in line, or fall to the bottom to be stepped on for the rest of their miserable lives. After all, anyone can be made to submit…

A submissive’s sole purpose was to be used and abused to the satisfaction of those above them. Those that submitted were lesser beings, worthy only to crawl in the dirt and lick their master boots.

All of this was a warped perception of reality. It went against everything Lunafreya had ever been taught. Yet, it was the reality she was to live in ever since the day Tenebrae was set ablaze.

The world as she knew it crumbles into ashes. What was once a beautiful sacred thing becomes tainted and depraved. Dominants no longer care for, nor protect their submissives. The lovely, colourful collars of her childhood are replaced with ugly metal rings; painful, cruel things that cannot be removed by the wearer.

Her childhood memories feel more and more like childish fantasy, romanticised out of ignorance of the cold reality of the world. The Empire ensures she learns the bitter truth of the world, and her place in it.

Mankind might crave dominion over others, but womankind has no place in seeking such privilege.

Men, she is told, are made to dominate, women are not. If a man who seeks to submit is a lesser being, hardly a man at all, then a woman who seeks to dominate is a perverse existence.

To step outside the lines the Empire has drawn for them will bring disaster down not just on yourself, but on your loved ones as well. Cross the wrong people and not even your wealth or status will protect you.

There is no way back up should one fall from grace. And it is a long, long way down…

……………..

One day Ravus is taken away. He returns a week later with a wild look in his eyes. His neck was completely bare. He declared he would never be collared be anyone ever again.

In the years to come the wild look never left his eyes, growing only more unhinged. She watches her brother struggle to be something he is not, the weight of the act threatening to crush him. As time passes the chains tighten and he drifts further and further away from her. True to his word, he never wore a collar. But Luna could see the chains of the Empire wrapped tight around him all the same.

Luna does not know how to help him.

She does not even know how to help herself.

All she can do is devote herself to her training. With their mother’s death, she is to be the Oracle now. Her duty and her magic is the one thing they cannot take from her, after all.

The Oracle is a symbol. A symbol the Empire is in need of, it seems.

They would not dare collar her. Not if they wish to make use of her.

No, Lunafreya is never collared. She feels the leash the Empire wraps around her throat, pulling tighter and tighter with each year that passes.


	2. Cages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer than I planned!! T_T Oh well, better late than never... Still gonna get this finished even though Lunoct week is over. Aiming for weekly updates, but hoping to get things done sooner...
> 
> Used day 2 prompt "Wings".

_How did you know you were a dom?_

The question sits scrawled at the top of the page framed in a series of moogle stickers. The letters are rushed, uneven, some running into others, ink spilling and blotching in several places.

Lunafreya can picture him clearly as if he was beside her; head down, sneaking sideways glances through his dark hair, hands restlessly tugging at whatever was nearest, as he pushes the words out in a single breath. The shape of him was right there in pages of their notebook. His thoughts and feelings all captured in the ink and given form in the strokes, twists, and taps of his pen across the paper.

She teases the end of her pen between her lips and considers her reply.

 _Dearest Noctis_ , she writes, _I’m afraid I cannot accurately say how exactly I knew I was a dom. I feel as though some part of me has always known, and you know I_ did _always lean towards dominance. At some point I simply began calling myself a dom and that was that._

It was a topic that had come up surprisingly rarely over the years. At fifteen, Noctis was likely starting to seriously consider where on the spectrum he might lie on. He was, in all likelihood, looking for some advice from someone older and more experienced.

The problem there lay in the fact that, though she was indeed older, she was just as lacking in experience as he was. In all her nineteen years, Luna had not yet had the opportunity to fully explore her sexuality. She knew what she was and she had a fairly good idea of what she liked. But her desires remained locked away in fantasy, a secret shared with no one.

Who could she possibly share them with? Surrounded as she was by leering eyes and wandering hands from the moment she entered her teens; her status as Oracle but a thin barrier that has kept them at bay for the time being. Should she take even the slightest interest in anything remotely sexual in nature, well, the vultures would see it as little more than an open _invitation_.

Bah, hardly!

Trust is the foundation of BDSM.

The sub trusts the dom enough to surrender complete control over to them. The dom holds that trust in full confidence that, if necessary, the sub can and will take control back with but one utterance of the safeword.

As it stands, there are very few people Luna is prepared to give that level of trust to, let alone anyone she trusts enough to invite into her bed.

Her limited pool of experience is almost entirely made up of the lessons one of her instructors had secretly slipped into his training sessions. She is truly very grateful he took the time and effort to teach her, despite the personal risk.

It had taken her by surprise that day, when her sparring partner calmly kneeled and her teacher handed her a thin leather flogger instead of the usual wooden polearm. He had said she was old enough that she ought to learn the basics. It was the kind of basic sexual education her tutors had only just begun touching on before the Empire came. The kind of education the Empire saw as largely unnecessary.

He had instructed her in the ways of the dominant. How to read one’s partner, when to push, when to pull back, whipping techniques, rope binding tricks, precautions, safety nets, aftercare. He gave her a basic introduction to a broad range of things. Even so, she is fully aware she has barely scratched the surface.

He had called her a young dom, and never once did she question it or consider another option. It had felt so right. She loved the feeling of being in control, the power trip, the sense of accomplishment! But then, there was also the pressure that came with control, and the fear of failure that came with it.

Finding the right headspace, her “domspace”, as it were, now that had been considerably trickier than she would have thought.

Luna still remembered the way it felt the first time control had been relinquished to her and her alone. Her teacher had always been there guiding her hand, ready to step in a moment’s notice, but one day he left her alone with his sub bound, blindfolded and completely at her mercy for a full half hour.

The sheer level of trust that had been placed in her hands that day, from both the girl bound helplessly at her feet, and from the man who put a whip in her hands. It was… _overwhelming_ , to say the least. Overwhelming and exciting! She wanted nothing more in that moment than to prove she was worthy of such trust.

She did her best to try and capture that feeling and explain it all to her dear friend. The pressure, the uncertainty, the desire stop and ask “Is this okay? Does it hurt?” that she had to push down. Then there was the thrill, the ego rush, the need to push more, to tease out those little sounds and reactions that got her pulse racing.

Despite all this, her lessons were just that, lessons, more a performance than anything truly sexual in nature. Perhaps it’s just as well, since it is not a topic she is entirely sure she is comfortable discussing with Noctis.

Still, she hoped talking through some of her own experiences, frustratingly limited as they are, will be helpful to him.

……………….

_I think I might be a sub._

It is months later when she receives this hesitant statement above a long rambling paragraph full of explanations that portray feelings of uncertainty and fear. Some considerably more exaggerated and entirely irrational, than others.

Luna does her best to assuage them, but cannot help but feel her meagre words of reassurance to be hollow and inadequate. What she would give if she could fly far away from here, to his side. But her wings have long since been clipped.

Every day the walls of her cage feel smaller and smaller, the Empire’s leash pulls tighter, the air trapped under her lungs from all the screams she has swallowed down.

She finds brief moments of reprieve in tending to her garden, in Gentiana’s company, in the times she is allowed to perform her duties as Oracle and offer healing to the people, in the letters exchanged with a friend who makes her laugh.

She misses the sound of his laugh.

She misses the sound of sincere joyful laughter as a whole.

……………..

_What do you think? Does it suit me?_

The words are scribbled at the bottom of a photo sitting snug between the pages of their notebook. It arrives a few weeks after her twentieth birthday.

She cannot take her eyes off of it.

Noctis’s blue eyes stare up at her through his eyelashes, a nervous little half-smirk on his lips, chin tilted up towards the camera held above his head, the fingers of his free hand hooked on the collar of his shirt, tugging it down, showing off the exposed lines of his throat and collarbones. Sitting snug around his neck is a thin strip of black leather, a gold clasp bearing the crest of the Lucian Royal Family at its centre, with “CXIV” embroidered in bold golden lettering just off to the left side.

The collar is elegant in its simplicity.

Noctis had spent a great deal of time carefully looking over options, often changing his mind several times over, before finally settling on this piece.

Luna’s heart pounds in her ears as she stares and stares and stares. She drafts up a dozen responses and scraps them all, settling ultimately on the simple response that it does indeed suit him.

She does not tell him how beautiful he looks. She does tell him how she longs to reach into the picture and stroke a finger across his chin, down the length of his throat, and slip it beneath the band of leather. She does not tell him what it does to her seeing him so calm and relaxed even in a pose that all but screams submission.

She certainly doesn’t tell him of how much she yearns to have a sub look at her like that.

And she will never tell him of how for the next few weeks her nightly fantasies are fuelled exclusively by a wholly innocent picture. In the morning light, with sweat drying uncomfortably on her skin, the guilt threatens to eat her alive.

……………………..

_Hey, so I saw this and thought of you. I kinda bought it on a whim and, well, I’m not gonna read it but I figured you might like it so, yeah…_

The message is written hastily, yet punctuated with perhaps a dozen or so stutters of his pen. She skims rapidly through the rest of it; all stumbling, awkward, with a hint of bashfulness. She finds not a hint of mischievousness, nor can she read any double meaning in his words. Not that she thought him to be that kind of person but still…

There had been an extra package alongside their notebook today. Luna had caught only a glance of it when she pulled it out, and had immediately shoved it straight back into Umbra’s satchel.

Surely, Noctis would not have sent her _pornography_!?

Not even as a prank, right!?

Surely not!

She takes a deep breath and reads through his message again. Awkward, fumbling embarrassed at having bought something so “girly”, not that he thinks that’s a bad thing! He’s just not into this type of stuff! She doesn’t have to keep it if she doesn’t like it! It was an impulse buy! Really, it doesn’t matter to all that much!

_“I saw this and thought of you.”_

Noctis was sweet and kind, he cared a great deal. Though he could be teasing and mischievous at times, he never meant any harm. It…it probably isn’t what she thought it was…

Swallowing thickly, she turns back to where Umbra has been sitting patiently at the end of her bed. Slowly, carefully, she reaches into the satchel and pulls out the magazine.

A magazine featuring two scantily clad women gazing heated into the camera in incredibly suggestive poses. The woman in black teases a riding crop between her teeth, while the woman in white dangles a pair of fuzzy handcuffs, beckoning the viewer closer.

A magazine advertising the latest fashion trends, the juiciest gossip, and an exclusive interview with an Insomnian celebrity to which Luna is largely unfamiliar with.

Her face heats at the rush of relief/embarrassment that rises up. Of course he wasn’t sending her something as utterly ridiculous as pornography! A giddy laugh spills past her lips as she collapsed back onto the bed.

Well, she feels quite silly now. But really, anyone would have thought the worst upon glimpsing something so, so… provocative! Scandalous even! Were anyone to find out something as frivolous as this in her possession – not to mention the fact it is, by all accounts, Lucian contraband – it would be confiscated without second thought.

Well, all the more reason to go ahead and read it then! Shifting into a more comfortable position, she slides the magazine from its plastic covering.

The world of Luna’s childhood was made bright and beautiful by the wilfulness of wistful memory. Or, so she had come to believe. One glimpse at the colourful world held within these pages brought back memories of the one she had lived in oh so long ago.

It…it was _beautiful_. 

Stars above, the outfits were simply gorgeous! So utterly stunning for what was essentially _underwear_! And the colours! She’d only seen so many colours in one place when her gardens were in full bloom, and even then it could hardly compare!

As she looked she felt heat begin to stir low in her belly.

Pryna, or possibly Umbra, gave a little wuff, startling her so violently she nearly leapt off the bed, the magazine unceremoniously shoved under her pillow. It took several seconds of gazing wildly around her room, heart pounding in her ears, for her to calm down.

Her bedroom had always been a safe haven; spacious, open, a wall of floor to ceiling windows that allowed plenty of natural light in to illuminate every dark corner. She could pretend not to see the bars of her gilded cage within this room.

Usually this soothed her.

But here and now, with her dogs playing fully batting at each other on the floor a short ways off, she felt… _exposed_.

Which is why she found herself moments later, locked in the bathroom, sitting in the tub, face in her hands and magazine on her lap.

Oh Gods above, what was she doing? Hiding in the bathroom like a naughty child hoping not to get caught with their hand in the cookie jar!? It was just a magazine! So why did it fill her with such a sense of shame?

The woman on the cover was blonde. She hadn’t really noticed it before, but now staring at it between her fingers it stood out to her. A pair of women, quite obviously dominatrices, one of whom had blonde hair and dressed all in white…

_“I saw this and thought of you.”_

Ah, so that’s what it was.

Luna was…well, not offended exactly. She could understand why Noctis would’ve made the connection after all, given her wardrobe _did_ consist mostly of white, especially when making public appearances as the Oracle. But, still.

She chuckled at the absurdity of it all. Really, that woman looked nothing like her. She wore an expression far too roguish for Luna’s tastes, her makeup was far too bold, and her clothes! Well, Luna had definitely never worn anything that bared so much skin, nor had tiny angel wings attached for that matter!

She could not quite envision herself in that outfit either. The style did not particularly appeal to her. Some of the other garments on the other hand…

She flicked through the pages, settling on a set of lavender garments. Some of them were designed for subs, but the one on the far left with the white trim and lovely laced corset that all but screamed dom. Now that one she could see herself wearing. Oh, if only.

She wondered what it was made of. Some sort of skin tight, stretchy fabric. Or latex perhaps? What would that feel like against her skin?

As she continued to flick through the magazine, she found herself skipping over the columns of text, her gaze drawn to the colourful array of outfits, the photos snapped of an important Lord Somebody out walking his near-naked subs. If the dog ears and tails counted towards clothing that is.

And then she reached the centrefold.

A woman stood with a man either side of her; one standing just a little behind only his profile visible, a hand beneath hers, the other resting at the small of her back as if guiding. The other kneeled at her feet, handcuffed arms raised as if in offering, and body angled away from the camera.

The woman, the model… she was wearing the most gorgeous outfit Luna had ever seen!

Creamy white with a black trim and sheer black stockings. The straps of her corset, the elegant bows on her garter, the ruffled half-skirt flowing behind her, the gentle puff of her sleeves, those gloves, oh sweet Astrals, everything about it was just so beautiful!

But the blindfold added an interesting twist. For the dom to be the one blindfolded…

“Justice is blind.” She’d say sliding the blindfold down over her own face, maintaining eye contact with her squirming sub right up until her sight was completely taken.

She would be free to move as she pleased, hands able to reach up and remove the blindfold at any moment. But he was bound tightly, barely able to wiggle his hands against his bonds. The power lay in her court, but without her sight, it would be up to him to guide her.

She’d smile, listening to his panting breath, the creaks and squeaks of the ropes as he squirmed impatiently. Perhaps she’d tease him then, have him tell her where she had laid out their toys, and purposely wander in the wrong direction, dragging it out longer. Once she was there she’d run her hands over each item, inspecting them thoroughly.

Maybe she’d even have him pick. But the riding crop, that’s the one she’ll pick up. Then she’ll have him guide her over to him, again dragging it out, making him wait.

Her crop will touch him first, like a blind person’s cane. She’ll drag it up his body, tapping, testing, is this you? Then she’ll strike, just to hear him cry out sweetly for her. Then she’ll smooth her hand over his sore flesh, yes, there you are.

She’d have to run her gloved hands all over him then, to find his legs, his torso, his arms, and his head of course. Oh, how he would tremble for her. How would the heat of his flesh feel against her gloves? What would it feel like if she buried her hand in his hair and tugged?

He’d give her another of those sweet little gasps. Perhaps he would be unable to take it anymore and begin to beg.

And, well, if he was so eager to receive his punishment, then she ought to oblige shouldn’t she?

She’d take her position between his legs, spread out as they are, with his ass and cock on display for all the world to see. Not her though. Not just yet. But he’d be so hot and wet then that if she reached out to touch him, it’d surely soak through her gloves.

Not that she would. Even with the cock ring preventing his orgasm, it’d be too much of a reward to grant him that. She’d tease him instead, sliding her hands over and down between his milky thighs, skirting her fingers around it, up over his abdomen, down just below his balls, always so close, but never quite close enough.

Then, once he was sobbing with need, it would be time for him to take his punishment.

She’d move back, line her crop up ever so carefully, lift and drop, lift and drop, keep him waiting, keep him guessing, then… Snap! Down it’d come unto his most sensitive place!

“Twenty strikes, right here.” She’d tell him, “Do tell me if I miss, won’t you my love? Should I miss the mark too many times, well, we’d have to start over then, wouldn’t we?”

If he encouraged her to miss, then he’d be adding to his punishment, on the other hand, he now had to effectively be the one guiding her to, heh, _hit him where it_ _hurt_.

It would be a lot like drawing with your eyes closed, it shouldn’t be too hard to miss on purpose. And he would yell out, lower, to the left, higher! All the while, gasping, crying and pleading desperately.

She’d count her twenty strikes, and then at last remove the blindfold to survey her artwork. She’d gently run her hands up his stomach, over his nipples, and back down again. What a good boy he has been. He’ll continue to be good for her, won’t he?

She’ll caress each and every little red mark, tallying up all the ones that didn’t hit their mark. She won’t tell him how many it’ll take for it to be too many though. Maybe he’ll need a little extra chastising, this time all twenty strikes with the blindfold off.

Or maybe he’ll be at his limit, still rock hard and dripping wet, positively aching for release despite the throbbing pain, or perhaps because of it. She might take mercy on him then, after all, he’d beg so sweetly.

Finally she’d take him in her hand, softly at first, barely a whisper of a touch, and then she’ll—

She’ll…

…Make an absolute mess of herself and her panties, sitting with a numb ass in the tub of her very empty bathroom…

She will have to thank Noctis for the magazine, but, perhaps leave out just how much she enjoyed it…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a link to the outfit that inspired the last bit of this chapter (you might need a deviantart account to view it tho coz of the mature filter): https://www.deviantart.com/shiniez/art/alan-s-catalogue-page-2-368156297


End file.
